


In Conversation

by obstinatrix



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinatrix/pseuds/obstinatrix
Summary: Do these idiots *ever stop talking*? Well, apparently: no.





	In Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Brief silly porn with no redeeming value.

The first time Garak kissed him, it tasted like the punch he'd been half-expecting instead: a final parry when all Garak's words had been spent and the argument was yet unwon. Julian's first impulse was to lift his arms, whether to push Garak away or pull him closer, he didn't know, but Garak caught him by the wrists and held on, bruise-hard. Another kiss, then, that was half a bite; and then a third that was nothing but teeth. It wasn't what Julian was used to, these fierce nips of teeth at his lips, then jaw, then neck. It was rough, but methodical, not the way a human might bite erratically at a zenith of pleasure, and Julian's science-brain had begun to wonder on this score when Garak sucked at the curve of his neck and the sensation hit him, set him gasping and clutching at Garak's restraining hands. 

"All right?" Garak said, his voice low, and the words sounded naked without _doctor_ alongside them until Garak, very deliberately, added, "Julian?" 

_Julian_. The name he had taken for himself, the name he owned, and it sounded so good in Garak's mouth, Julian wanted all at once to keep it there, to hear Garak breathe it in his ear and kiss it into his skin. As if he knew as much, Garak leaned in, pressed a kiss to the soft place below Julian's ear and said it again, more sure of himself this time: " _Julian._ " 

Despite himself, Julian felt his eyes closing. "Yes." He lifted his face blindly, seeking. "God, yes, _Garak_ —can I have my hands? Give me my hands, I want to—that's it, oh, you're—kiss me—" 

His fingers sought out the triangle of scales at the nape of Garak's neck, the possibilities of which had long intrigued him, and then the sides of Garak's face, the ridges that ran from ear to chin, describing the curve of the jaw. Like this, it was possible to still Garak long enough for Julian to kiss him, properly, gently, learning the unexpected softness of his lips and the wet heat of his tongue. 

It was easy to fall into it, the rhythm of it, and satisfaction went to Julian's head in a dizzying rush. "That's it," he murmured between kisses: "that's it—Garak—kiss me, kiss me—" 

"You'll have to stop talking long enough for me to do so," Garak said—completely untruthfully, if his actions were any indicator. 

"You like it when I talk," Julian said, sliding his fingers into the neck of Garak's tunic and over the ridges of bone concealed beneath. Garak's hands were at the zipper of Julian's uniform now and Julian let him undo it, felt the hands at his waist seeking skin beneath the uniform turtleneck. Garak kissed his mouth, his neck, the notch of his collarbone, and Julian arched his back, bracing himself on Garak's shoulders as Garak shoved him up against the bulkhead. "You'd have shut me up by now if you didn't; you love the sound of my voice almost as much as you like your own." 

"Perhaps," Garak admitted. His hand had found its way to Julian's backside, squeezing, cool where Julian's skin was hot. All at once, Julian wanted nothing more than to be free of the damned constricting uniform, wriggling his shoulders as if he could simply shed it like a snakeskin. "I do appreciate your commentary, dear. I hope you'll keep me apprised of the intricacies of your thought process when I get my cock inside you." 

" _Yes_ ," Julian hissed, feeling faint at the prospect. Garak was, fuck, Garak was _undressing_ now, uncovering what seemed like acres of shimmering scale and smoother skin where he was unplated. Julian took the opportunity to wrestle himself out of his own clothes before Garak could stop him, but then it didn't seem as if Garak had any such intention; his cock was half out of its sheath when he took Julian in his arms again, pressing their bodies together; and it was so—God, Julian hadn't the words, but as ever, that proved no barrier. " _Lovely_ —Garak, you're so—how do I— _oh_ —" and the full length of Garak's cock slid wetly into his hand and Julian buried a groan in Garak's neck: "Oh _fuck_ , Jesus, that's _huge_." 

"Like this, or lying down?" Garak inquired, and Julian took in the flex of muscle in his arms, the breadth of the chest, and decided one ought to be fucked against a wall at least _once_ in one's life, and 

"Yes, dear," Garak said, taking Julian's weight on his solid thighs as he lifted him, sinking all that fat slick gorgeous cock inside him and Julian had never been so full, not ever, "oh _God_ , Garak, yes, fuck me, that's it—oh _fuck_ you're lovely—" 

Afterwards, when Julian was dozing with his head on Garak's broad cool chest, Garak remarked that apparently the _only_ way to shut Julian up was indeed to put something in his mouth, and possibly he'd have to try that next time. 

"I'll only take that as a challenge, you know," Julian pointed out sleepily, and he felt, rather than saw, Garak's smile. 

"My dear," he said, "I'm counting on it."


End file.
